


Going Viral

by trillian_jdc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coronavirus, Covid-19 Related, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mycroft Holmes invented social distancing, Quarantine, Self-Isolating, mystrade, shelter in place, social distancing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23321947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillian_jdc/pseuds/trillian_jdc
Summary: Mycroft Holmes has been exposed to the coronavirus and prepares to self-quarantine, which he's very used to. His isolation is accidentally interrupted by Greg Lestrade, who winds up sheltering in place with him.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 31
Kudos: 77
Collections: Isolated Johnlock Collection, Lock Down Fest, Quarantine





	Going Viral

Overseas travel, even via private jet, was so wearying these days. Mycroft Holmes was as glad as he ever let himself be to be home. Walking into the kitchen gleaming with metal appliances and fittings, he hadn't even paused to remove his overcoat as he placed his briefcase on the counter. 

The fatigue was almost overwhelming. Perhaps some enforced time here, by himself, would be beneficial in more ways than one. That might be the only thing he could thank the idiot Americans for. But then, in politics, that was a redundancy. 

His hands, by instinct, went to cover his mouth, but he stopped himself in time. The habit of touching one's face with steepled fingers was hard to break, but the emergency briefing on the flight back was clear. Just another thing to keep in mind during his self-quarantine. Virus exposure was not something to take lightly. Social distancing was something he was already practiced at, albeit not under such a trendy name. He never touched others, anyway. Breaking the routine of attendance at the office was more difficult, but modern technology meant he had plenty to occupy himself with. 

At least an assistant had taken care of food delivery before panicking citizens had stripped the shelves. Mycroft didn't cook for himself often, but he could handle the basics, particularly with the right blend of convenience foods. And plenty of soups, if the worst happened and he developed symptoms after infection. He'd make himself a simple dinner after he settled a bit more. Mycroft took off his coat and hung it in the closet on his way to change clothes and relax into the evening. 

* * *

His quiet decompression was interrupted sooner than expected, as the front door video feed activated on his mobile. Mycroft took a look, sighed, and told it, "You can't come in, Sherlock."

"Don't be ridiculous, Mycroft. You aren't sick. Deactivating all entry codes is an overreaction," his brother spit out, as he paced outside the house. "I could get in if I really wanted." 

"Of course you could, brother mine, but it wouldn't be the best use of your time or intelligence. Don't you and Dr. Watson have better things to do than interrupt my evening meal?" Mycroft knew Sherlock had come up with some rationalization to visit, but his younger brother was really more concerned than he wanted to admit. The speed of his appearance, now that Mycroft was back in the country, was flattering, indicative of a closer relationship than they'd had previously. Best not to indicate the direction of his thoughts, though, for fear of spooking his sibling. 

"What do you want, Sherlock? Any information you need I can email, over secure channels if necessary, but you won't be coming in. Lord knows what I've been exposed to during my trip to America. I'm self-quarantining as required and to set a good example." 

"Hmmmph. If you refuse me, I'll text your PA. But I will see you in two weeks." The consulting detective whirled around to depart, hiding his worry in his usual dramatics, ending the phone call between the brothers. 

* * *

Mycroft began heating up a can of chicken soup. A sprinkling of chopped chives would give it a fresher taste, and a toasted slice of crusty bread with good butter would be all the accompaniment he needed. It didn't matter much, since rest would be more important than food to reset his inner clock. His biggest challenge, according to the experts, would be not letting the distraction of worry affect his mood or activities. Clearly, the experts weren't familiar with the Holmes disposition and strength of will. 

He hadn't even gotten the soup into the bowl before a rapid knocking sounded at the door. The security camera showed a familiar head of silver hair, so Mycroft activated the intercom for the second time that night. "Detective Inspector, how can I help you?" 

Greg Lestrade turned around. He'd been standing on the doorstep, back to the house, surveying the neighborhood. The worried expression on his face revealed his concern. "Oh, Mycroft, what are you doing out of bed? Sherlock said you were at death's door and had no one to take care of you." 

"Someone needed to answer the door," Mycroft answered drily. His voice warmed when he thought of the trouble his brother's friend had taken to rush over. "While I appreciate your concern, there is no need. My brother, as usual, exaggerates. I'm not sick. I'm merely self-isolated due to virus exposure during travel."

"Oh, no! You came in contact with that bug? Do you have everything you need?" 

"I believe so. The kitchen is stocked, and communications protocols are in place. Now, I really must excuse myself and rest." 

"Oh, course, I don't want to bother you," Lestrade sounded a bit guilty. "But if there's anything I can do... please get in touch. Hope you feel better soon, Mycroft." He began backing down the walk towards where he'd parked on the street. 

Mycroft had turned back to the kitchen when he heard a sudden screech and a thud. 

* * *

The security cameras didn't reveal anything unusual, but they didn't have that wide a range of view beyond the house. Mycroft cautiously opened the front door, trying to balance his need to keep away from others with a curiosity and, if he was honest, a certain amount of worry. His agile mind was spinning too many dangerous explanations for the noises he'd heard. 

A quick scan of the street revealed nothing but the prone body of Greg Lestrade. Normally, Mycroft was pleased that his neighborhood was so quiet and set apart, but that meant there was no one else around to help, so he took a deep breath and crossed his threshold. He'd promised to stay inside, but he couldn't leave someone in need, particularly someone who'd been so important to his family. 

Walking quickly to Lestrade's side and crouching down, Mycroft saw that the policeman was already beginning to wake up, but the injured man needed to be kept still until his condition had been verified.

"Lestrade! Don't move." Mycroft put his hand on the man's shoulder to keep him in place. No injuries were visible, but one never knew what an impact might have done internally. 

Greg shook off Mycroft's hand and sat up. "'m fine, Mycroft. Some idiot was driving too fast down your street. I tripped when I got out of the way. But you shouldn't be out here. C'mon, let's get you back inside." 

"You'll have to come with me, I'm afraid. My apologies, Detective Inspector, but I couldn't leave you in the street. You're now subject to quarantine."

**Author's Note:**

> I stole the "Mycroft Holmes invented social distancing" tag from [bookjunkiecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookjunkiecat/pseuds/bookjunkiecat); hope she doesn't mind. My profuse thanks to [StarsAndStitches](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsAndStitches) for the beta.


End file.
